Honey, git the bowl

I cut Adder's hair today.

I am not someone who generally cuts her children's hair.  I cut Eva's once when she was around the same age as Adele is now, and it wound up looking like a blind person with pinking shears had attacked her bangs.  

Or like she had pulled a Britney and grabbed chunks of hair and hacked at it herself.  While blindfolded.  In a hurricane.  With a butter knife.  

My haircutting skills ARE that bad.

I swear it took six months to grow into an acceptable haircut, and I vowed never to do it again. 

Instead, every four months or so, I haul her to a salon where the women coo and tell her how beautiful she is, start a Disney Princess film on the tv, cut her bob very efficiently, and then hand her a sucker.  It costs fourteen bucks.

And then I don't have to stand away from her in public, pretending THAT SLOPPY CHILD THERE?  THE ONE WITH THE SHREDDED HAIR?  Nope, not mine.

Well worth it, I'd say.

But Addie's hair has gotten out of control lately, and it seems obscene to go pay that much for a trim that would take a total of 15 seconds.

So...I sucked up my courage...took out the big scissors...and...

I trimmed it myself.

And it went fine.

I'm not saying it was easy, or stress-free.

Addie sat still for about 1.4 seconds (a record!), before she began flipping and spinning her head around like the Exorcist on fast-forward.  I actually worked up a sweat, struggling to keep her away from the scissors and distracted long enough to get around her head (paring knives, hard candies, and a lighter worked great)

AND...

SOMEHOW...

It looks darned cute.

I might actually allow this one out of the house.  In public.  Without a hat.  Before six months go by.

And if I'm feeling particularly saucy, I might even admit she's mine.

Maybe.